Playdough Pietàs

Sometimes I struggle
Like an infant pulling through
The amniotic cocoon
Gasping to breathe
What I haven’t before.
I struggle with the transience
In a complete lifetime,
The impermanence I find,
The great distillation of enormity
Into tiny moments
We may only inhabit once.

Our baby laughter
Echoes through the corridors
Of time no more.
Our babies’ laughter
Yields to silent hallways
And I am always aware
I’m tender here
Ever in wonder
Ever grieving

The millions of tiny births and deaths
In a single lifespan.


The Sideways Rays

I stepped out by the back door
Standing still in the setting sun
Dust and pollen dancing like fairies
And the day, the years- nearer to done,
Nearer to interred in the wet earth,
Than they’ve ever been-
Whispered of a childhood
That will never be again
And will never pass away.

I smiled at who I’ve been
Still inside, still a part
Of who I am.


Dearest Companion

I’m thinking of our timeline-
A million collisions of grace
Affection and loyalty
You showed in the face
Of my unworthiness,

Because my unworthiness
Is curable in Your pierced hands.

My heart brims with gratitude
My Father, my Brother, my Friend
My ever-constant Redeemer
My Betrothed in the end
And Your love letters abound

Every breath You’ve supplied
Is a gift of life
And I am found in this:

Thank you.


On the Wing

Today is the day.
How grateful am I
For every cloud of gray
Every drop of rain or icy flake,
Every breath that flew away
In dirge, or praise, or revelry.

Intricately, my wings unfurled,
My story unfolded against the air
In ascension and dive, song and twirl:
Before my Maker, I migrated
Searching this world
For Providence

Finding it from cavern to summit
In my Maker’s hand-
Taking wing to the wind of trumpets
To soar through blue
Or else to plummet
And sleep though winter

One day, to finish my flight,
To be in the ground
Is no less than working the sky
All things complete, as they should be.
After all, You alone made me to fly;
There is special providence in the fall of a sparrow,
Even one such as I.


On Evacuations and Advancements

The air is so cold
down here
It makes introductions
the whole way down
in struggling breaths
I feel every part
exposed from under
the handkerchief blanket
I brought for the dog
And my soul is warmed
By the love I’ve been shown,
By the beds I’ve been offered
Sitting empty,
Yet filling my affection
and encouragement.
The floor is cold and hard,
But not the world
God is rewriting.


Diverted by Beauty

We march, shoulder to shoulder,
In a column down the road
Densely packed together,
Those behind us take the goad
I strain to make my way
Through the crowd, to see
The final destination
We pursue in step proudly,
But only elbows, shoulders,
The backs of many heads:
And everyone is leading,
And everyone is led.
The left leads with their left foot
The right leads with their right
As I tumble, tossed between them
For my way to walk upright
I stumble once, a hip
Collides into my side,
I find the ground beneath my palms,
Then catch a knee in stride
Foot by foot, I’m pressed
Now my back, my neck, my hand
As I scratch and claw sideways
Out to higher land
Aside the moving crowd
I recline on the foot of a grassy bank
I catch my breath. I see the sky.
I lift my quiet thanks.
The throngs continue moving
Humming as they go,
Some homogeneous buzz:
A million tunes that no one knows.
The sky above looks gray,
But along the horizon view
It spreads to fill the space
Pink blooming to vibrant blue.
I lift my head, and standing alone
At the peak of my grassy slope
I’m caught unaware by a flower
Piercing with sudden hope
A nameless hope, shapeless,
Stirring my stagnant depths
Now I’m crawling and fumbling,
Too bent low to take real steps.
As I crest the hill, splendor
Bathes me in golden light
Fields of flowers spread
Out to the farthest sight
And rocky mountains carve the air,
A crystal lake reflects the sun
People break off from the group
Slowly, one by one,
I stand to resume the migration,
Ambling beside the troupe
Neither independent,
Nor one within the group,
But all my steps ascend the hill
Gravitating to beauty
Devotion meets affection;
Loyalty finds its duty.
Somehow a nation is formed
In steps between the two;
The solid mass of man,
And the beatific view.


Snow Days

A mess of oatmeal, a scavenger hunt
For scarves and gloves,
And tumbles into the great outdoors
My eager loves
Tromp and slip, they
Roll and pat and pack fresh snow
Into brand news friends
And when they go
I heat a pot of chocolate hot,
And whip together oven rolls
So when they pile inside again
I can warm their tiny souls.